


Room of Portraits

by Akka



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Creepy, Gen, Gen Work, Oneshot, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akka/pseuds/Akka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am quite keen on drawing something new today,” said the girl who spent her days in a drawing of a house, with a painting of herself gathering dust against the wall, in a world made of art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room of Portraits

“I am quite keen on drawing something new today,” said the girl who spent her days in a drawing of a house, with a painting of herself gathering dust against the wall, in a world made of art.

She reached for her palette, which was almost entirely covered in the dry, encrusted remnants of what were likely the colors of a thousand earlier paintings. But it was no matter, she never ran out of acrylics and watercolors and crayons and markers to work with. Deciding on a creamy beige and an assortment of colours she found appealing, she set down her palette and eagerly crawled through her collection of white canvases, the ones she kept stored away. The young girl stared at one pensively, before frowning and shaking her head. She came across a different one and reached for it, only to turn away as she spotted another out of the corner of her eye. All the canvases were about the same size and shape, though with a trained eye such as hers one could notice that some canvases were smoother while others were more grainy, and some appeared duller as though they had worn down over time. She reached for the most beautiful one she could find, and carried it under one arm out of the room. The girl in the green dress didn’t even look back as she swung the door shut, the darkness swallowing up the empty canvases like a famished animal.

Her tiny heels clicked against the cold, hard ground as she stood up at once and continued to her previous room. She delicately set her canvas against the easel, and placed a stool in front of her work, gathering up her skirts to sit down. Her feet dangled in the air as she picked up her palette in one hand, reaching for a thin brush with the other.

Her strokes were deft and distinct, colors climbing along the white fibers like a staircase. Feathery black sweeps for the eyelashes. Trails of soft pink for the lips. Careful dabs for a button nose. An elegant young lady began to form out of the cacophony of colors.

“There you are; it appears I have finally found you! My name is Mary. What might yours be?”

The painting did not reply.

“There’s plenty of time for chit-chat later I suppose. For starters, would you be at all interested in becoming my friend? It's awful lonely down here.” Mary’s eyes shone.

The painting did not reply.

She giggled, her voice becoming shaky and less stable in tone. “A shy one, are we? That’s quite alright. I'm sure we will get to know each other very well. But I went through all this effort to find you, would you spare me at least a hello?”

The painting did not reply.

She narrowed her eyes forebodingly, gritting her teeth. “You are especially obstinate, but I'll be certain that changes shortly.” Mary curled her hand into a fist, her knuckles a cold white.

An abrupt, slow scrape against the floor made her snap her head up sharply.

Long fingernails dug into the ground, leaving deep vertical indents etched into the floor. A pale woman dragged her body towards Mary slowly. Her eyes were shrouded by long strands of chestnut hair that coiled over her shoulder and swayed before her face like a veil. At the end of her waist was a large frame that she dragged behind her. It squealed against the ground as it was forced along. She groaned, her arm reaching out towards the young girl.

Mary shrieked, her teeth bared in disgust. “I told you _never_ to interfere with my work! _Never ever_!" The little blonde lady seized her painting, wrenching it off the easel. She plunged it at the woman on the ground. The woman screamed, her eyes wide with torment. She tore at the portrait until it lay in fragments around her and then crawled away swiftly, dragging her frame behind her.

The girl was left alone once more. She shook, parting away her blond curls to reveal a wide grin.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered softly, “Once we meet a second time, you shall adore me as I adore you. We will be friends forever, and you will never even think to leave me again...”

She cooed at the torn scraps of fabric scattered around her. One could make out a ruby-coloured eye. Shreds of a white blouse. Rich brown locks of hair. And a dark red rose.

“…Ib.”


End file.
